


Icons

by Rharharha



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, F/M, Love Triangles, Rich kids just learnin about life, a lot of angst and a lotta love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-11-02 00:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10933071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rharharha/pseuds/Rharharha
Summary: Riverdale institute claimed to be the best rehab in the country - in all reality it was the most expensiveAU where riverdale teens all are very rich and their parents ship them off to rehab.X-Posted on FF





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Archie sees Veronica was when his group session lagged over its usual 2pm finish, the same time her parents dropped her off in the clinic for her 3pm one.

She’s walking slowly, shoulders slouched and fingers brushing the hem of her heavy brown coat, dwarfed adorably next to the ever tall Jason Blossom as he briefly shows her around. Archie vaguely remembers one of the boys in his group talking about a new girl joining the clinic, she’s not supposed to be staying in the hospital like the rest of them; still “well” enough to live at home but not well enough to be left alone. Archie knows it’s only a matter of time until she’s admitted fully.

Moose wants her to be one of the daughters of the Korean family that moved into his neighbourhood a few months ago and Reggie agrees, laughing about how he’s never fucked a Korean chick. He tuned them out after that, because Moose has always been a bit of a dick and Reggie has always wanted to please someone.

This girl isn’t Korean. She’s made of long limbs and slender skin, her eyes round and lashes nearly brushing her cheeks every time she blinks, no defiantly not Korean. Her skin stands out a soft caramel against her white crop top and he’s so distracted by it he barely notices the slight indent between each of her ribs, she’s tiny, not in height but just in being, the type of girl who sits in the back of the classroom without anyone knowing her name. She’s possibly smaller then Betty and yet taller than Cheryl. Her hair tumbles around her shoulders in luscious black curls, a nice contrast to the dyes and tones plagued by the other kids in the rehab. She catches his eye the second before she’s stepping into room 332 and Archie doesn’t even notice he’s staring until she’s slipped through the door.

 

***

 

Veronica likes to think of her body as a metaphor, tangled deep within poems and novels. It stretches as high as she wants and retracts into hidden meanings, it melts into river fronts and slips below gardens and trees.

Yes, her body is a metaphor, it exists in comparisons, good for referencing to something else, good for talking about.

  
She’s barely 17 when her parents sign her up to a rehab for troubled teens with rich parents, it’s in the middle of a town just south of her home city New York. It sits in the middle of large maple trees and looks entirely wrong against its serene background. It promises something about aiding troubled teens, something made to help in addiction and illness.

Her parents seem to forget it’s the same place her cousin was sent a year ago, the same place that six months after her release saw her OD on a deadly cocktail of drugs

She’s stuck in the back seat of her father’s Rolls Royce and her mother is talking to her, instructing her on the etiquette of places like this. Veronica tries to ignore the rapidly emptying wine glass in her mother’s left hand as she agrees to her slurred instructions, tries to ignore the resentment rising in her father’s eyes as he glares at them both.

Veronica knows she is an image, a statement during the 90’s when having a kid was a fashion. She is an idea, a fantasy for them both. She doesn’t really remember making a decision for herself; her clothes, her actions, her personality, all carefully orchestrated to benefit her parents.

She wants to resent them, wants to resent the empty houses she was left with on Saturday nights, resent the lack of care when given meals, but that was her control, her power laying in emotions embedded deep into their dynamics. She doesn’t get to make the decisions, but she gets to pretend she does. She is aware of what they want and what they need and it is her who gives it, her who throws the loud house party, her who chooses to skip lunches and dinners. She is a problem they wanted, and that means a problem that they need.

The driver warns them the clinic is a minute away as he swerves down a road barely thick enough for two cars to pass, her dad schools his expression into concern and love whilst her mother begins to tear up.

Veronica herself does nothing. She stares forward, She is an idea.

She sits, she waits, as she has done for 17 years.

She doesn’t really need her parents to instruct her now, she knows what they want.

 *

Twenty minutes later she is situated in a room on the third floor of a hospital, she tries to forget if it’s Tuesday or Wednesday, if it’s December of January.

She does know - it’s the 3rd Tuesday of January, 6 days after her 17th birthday. Her parents got her a card with a glitzy 18 on the front and she didn’t correct them.

Her mum told her to not worry about dates, about minutes and hours slipping through her because they’ve sent her here to help, she doesn’t need to worry, and so she tries to forget. She’s trying to wipe the names of months from her memory and erase the days they’re filled with and so she sits there between a girl who looks like she’s weighs less than a feather and a boy who has sleeves down over his fingers and tries to forget.

The room is filling slowly, Veronica doesn’t know what time it is, restricts herself from counting the ticking of the clock in the corner and instead focuses on the large window to the left of the room, it’s long, stretching from the ceiling to the floor and is so clean it almost looks as if it isn’t there. She wonders idly if birds try to fly in or even possibly people try to fly out.

A girl sits in front of it, interrupting her musings and shoots Veronica a dangerous smile. She’s short, snowy limbs and fiery hair wrapped together to make a parcel of teen angst, broken apart by dark tattoos. Veronica smiles back, lifts a hand to send her a wave and smiles larger when the girl waves back.

Veronica knows her, remembers sandy afternoons and waterlogged mornings with her. Her name is Cheryl and she was caught in a nightclub bathroom snorting lines 4 months back. Her mum told her it was amazing over afternoon tea, amazing that she just so happened to be caught at the same time her family was opening a new maple factory and vaguely mentions the latest accusation against her father, Hiram. Veronica catches the glint in her mother’s eye and files it away, stores it between the silent requests and needs her parents want from her.

She smiles again at each person who walks in, she recognises a majority of them from acquaintances of her parents, they’re all around the same age and she feels less special being in a room full of people born from the same craze, but she still sits silent and happy. This is what her parents want, and so this is what she wants.

 

***

 

The first time Archie actually met Veronica was on a Sunday, 2 months after he first saw and 1 month after he forgot her. He’s walking to his dorm, the thick smell of smoke clinging to his jacket and he’s laughing with Reggie and Moose about some fight Cheryl had with one of the new girls – she’s supposed to be tall and the perfect girl next door, her parents own several newspapers publications and want to debut a new one next month. Moose calls her Midge with a new spark in his eyes and a twist to his smirk.

They’re slowly ascending the stairs as she’s descending and Archie recognises her instantly. She looks smaller now; Paler. Her hair is tied up in a bun and she’s wearing some designer dress that he’s sure Betty was looking at last week.

She stops when she sees them, sending them a small smile and slightly bowing her head. Archie remembers Cheryl whispering a faint Veronica to him between puffs of a cigarette when he asked for her name all those weeks ago.

              “Hello” she starts to talk, her smile is soft and warm and doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “My name is Veronica Lodge and I’m moving into Dorm B4.”

Archie knew it wasn’t going to be long until she was fully admitted.

Moose snickers next to him and moves forward, standing directly in front of the girl and lifting her chin with his ring finger.

              “You’re a pretty thing aren’t you” He states loud and clear, forcing her to look at him. Reggie laughs too and moves from his side, cornering her against the wall.

Archie stays back and watches. He’s used to this, used to Moose’s weird need to prove something and Reggie’s for approval.

 *

Archie was 5 when he first met Moose, they had been at the same nursery and their dads owned rival construction companies. Archie remembers the boy’s name being tossed around their home the day before he started and the following weeks afterwards.

              “Befriend Moose Mason” His dad told him over dinner one night, his eyes not straying from the heavy laptop next to him.

Archie tries to recall Moose, he vaguely remembers a small boy who sits in the back of class who has the same Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle lunchbox as him. Archie doesn’t like him, he’s too loud and he gets angry too quick when the teacher tells him no. He doesn’t want to be his friend. He already has a friend; a quiet french boy named Henry who didn’t speak much English and Archie didn’t really mind that much because he didn’t speak much French either.

But still in the following days he finds himself moving away from the pale boy and sitting next to this Moose kid. It was difficult at first, they didn’t really have anything in common, where Moose basked in the limelight, Archie shied away from it and where Archie was more prone to keeping silent when he got upset Moose could throw tantrums that could be heard through the whole nursery.

But almost as if he had received the same demand as Archie, Moose made reluctant efforts to talk back to him, at lunch there would always be a seat next to the notorious Moose Mason for him and every science project they found themselves paired together. Archie could tell that Moose hated it as much as he did and he found a sort of solace with it, there wasn’t any pressure to make a good impression, any pressure to find a common interest. It was a perfectly planned friendship that neither party wanted to be in.

It took years for them to find some sort of mutual understanding, despite countless sleepovers and days out with their au pairs. Memories that always felt forced to Archie.

That was until Reggie, a pretty boy from Singapore who snuck in a pack of cigarettes to their middle school on his second day and offered one shyly to the two boys. Reggie was like a missing piece for the two, he was a bridge between them, Perfect parts Moose’s recklessness and Archie’s hopefulness, but something entirely different from the two as well.

 *

              “Hey Arch, come over her and say hey” Moose calls over to him, his fingers still gripping the girls jaw.

Archie shrugs and shuffles over, Punching Moose in the arm on the way

              “Don’t treat girls like that, you jackass” he mutters ignoring the glare Moose sending his direction. He’s probably going to get a lecture later about not embarrassing him in front of pretty girls, but Archie’s heard it before and there’s no doubt he’ll hear it again.

              “Hey Veronica -“ He smiles down at the girl and he’s only slightly endeared by how much smaller she is than him “ - I’m Archie, we stay in the dorm next to yours.” He keeps his hands in his pocket, restraining himself from touching the reddening area on her cheeks where Moose had gripped her earlier, he had never been able to be gentle.

She smiles back at him, the same dead smile she offered them earlier and it doesn’t sit quite right with him.

              “It’s nice to meet you Archie, and your friends. I look forward to getting to know you all” She smiles again and bows her head, not giving him a chance to reply before she’s striding off.

The three boys stand in silence for a second, Archie doesn’t know quite what to make of the girl; she’s different that far he can tell. Moose starts to laugh making some snarky comment about her attitude and Reggie wraps his arm around his shoulder to continue dragging him up the stairs, he laughs along with them but he can’t drag his eyes from the figure walking away from them.

 *

He decides, rather reluctantly, that the she interests him.

Veronica interests Archie in the same way the stars do – he doesn’t spare her much thought when he’s with Moose and Reggie, or when he’s in his scheduled group meetings, or even when the 30 or so kids that live in the institute are all sat in the cafeteria.

It’s at night that he wonders; he wonders if perhaps she had eaten that day as he recalls Cheryl complaining how she stays so thin because she just doesn’t eat, or if she finally had the chance to get outside as he overheard the nurses talking about how she won’t leave her room.

She’s so unattainable and distant and yet Archie craves to look at her, to count the constellations that fill her eyes. He wants to reach out and touch her when he gets really bored and the high from the pill Betty gave him is slowly deflating. But she’s too far away and she’s too beautiful and Archie is lost.

 *

              “Veronica?” Cheryl laughs as Archie perches on the metal railing that runs across the top of the roof, inhaling from an imported cigarette and trying to blow the smoke out in little rings, eager for any information he could gain.

              “Veronica Lodge, yeah” he confirms “the girl who got admitted here a couple of months ago, the one who replaced Ginger”

Cheryl laughs at that, flicking the ash of her fag onto Archie’s jacket and ignoring his muttered complaints.

              “Some replacement, at least Ging would speak to us” she sighs and sends Archie a smirk. “I don’t know what to tell you, she’s probably one of the most fucked up people I’ve ever met and I’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting Moose”

Archie laughs because he feels like he has too and drops the topic. He lets Cheryl complain about the new girl Midge and ignores her wandering hands across his thigh. This is a game he is used to playing with her and for once he isn't up for it.

She huffs and leaves after a few more minutes and he can't bring himself to feel guilty about it. Instead he is left to stare at the stars, and he can't help but think that maybe between the two brightest stars he can see the shadow of Veronica’s eyes staring back at him.

*

2 months pass in startling nothing; No one new joins and no one leaves.

It’s a dull purgatory filled with uncaring souls. Archie sits with his legs dangling from a 4th story window and wonders if Hell itself would be any better than here, but he knows it’s not. He’s been through Hell and he’s danced with the devil and he can’t help but think it’s much the same.

Maybe even heaven would be the same. Archie laughs because of course it would be. Everything is the same. Dull, monotonous. Everything is dragging on just waiting to end.

He edges forward and looks down, there’s nothing below him but grey cement. A bad decision, he condemns the hospital, especially if it’s so easy to break open the safety latches on the windows.

Archie thinks about how easy it would be just to jump and tries to imagine it. The feeling of air rushing past him and caressing him with its gentle touch, pulling him down and down with it until he’s settled on the ground and then it’s earth that gets to cradle him with soft arms as it quickly snaps his bones.

It’s not the fall that would get him, he thinks, but the landing.

Maybe, he contemplates, maybe one day he would. But not Today. It’s too easy today, he’s too bored and too lonely and too stubborn.

              “So people do try and fly out”

A soft voice to his left startles him, he blinks and looks down and realises he’s almost completely out the window, only a little bit of him still sat on the ledge. He jumps backwards and falls onto the carpet with a loud shout of pain.

              When he looks up and meets Veronica’s eyes he doesn’t know if he can’t breathe because he’s winded or if it’s the fact that she’s finally looking at him, her eyes staring into his own and  _looking_ at him.

              “What do you mean?” He wheezes out, pulling himself to sit up and simultaneously rub at his lower back, where he took the most impact of the fall.

She crouches down so she’s eye level with him, sends him a small smile that still doesn’t reach her eyes and answers,

              “The windows, they’re too big”

              “What?” He asks again, peering into her eyes and trying to figure out what the hell she’s going on about

              “It’s a thought I had once, about the windows. They’re far too big, don’t you think?” She doesn’t wait for an answer as she stands again and moves to walk off.

              “Wait!” Archie shouts, he doesn’t know why. He hasn’t nothing to follow it with, no conversation to start, nothing to lead with. But Veronica is there and she’s speaking to him, she’s looking at him and Archie didn’t even realise how much he had craved it until that moment.

This time it’s her who looks at him in confusion, cocking her head to the side and all Archie can think of is how cute it is.

              “What are you doing? Like right now?”

              “I’m talking to you” She answers, her head still cocked to the side as she furrows her brow

Archie laughs at that, a genuine laugh, something he hasn’t done in quite some time “I mean like, after this conversation, what are you doing?”

She pauses for a moment, contemplating her answer and Archie feels something akin to nerves rushing through him.

              “I have a one on one meeting at 2-” Archie feels his shoulders deflate, sort of expecting the rejection but not prepared to actually hear it “-but after that nothing”

He perks at that, _nothing_ , he has nothing to do either and maybe they could do nothing together.

              “Do you wanna like hang out or something maybe?” he asks, trying to appear nonchalant but even he can hear the faint hope in his voice

              “Sure” She nods and sends him another fake smile.

Archie frowns, wishes she would stop showing them to him but knows he’s a hypocrite because he does it too.

              “I’ll um meet you outside your dorm at 3 then?” She nods one more time before finally leaving and Archie doesn’t try to stop himself staring at her diminishing figure

The time that passes feels like the longest and yet shortest of his life, he wants to talk to someone about it, ask advice on what to do to make sure it isn’t the only time he gets to hang out with Veronica.

Moose and Reggie were out of the question, on their own they may be helpful but the two were always together and when they were together they were permanently obnoxious. Cheryl was out of the question as well, it was rare to find her sober and when she was she was a notorious bitch.

Archie racked his mind trying to think of someone, running through the faces of the people that lived around him and vetoing each one for some reason or another.

There was only one person that stuck out, a tall boy who kept his raven locks always hidden in the same beanie. Jughead Jones. Archie couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to him despite the fact they were admitted into the institute at basically the same time.

He casts his mind back to when they were 14 and each other’s only real friends, Jughead being the only person in school who wasn’t totally armored by Moose’s presence. They were private friends – chatting on MSN and hiding in between shelves in their schools oversized library. They drifted when Jughead’s dad went bankrupt – forcing him to transfer schools and transfer out of Archie’s life.

Whilst thinking about their previous relationship Archie finds himself knocking on the dorm room of A6, one of the only solo rooms in the whole hospital.

A skinny boy emerges - skinnier then Archie ever remembered -covered in black tattoos and with his usual beanie sat askew on top of his head, a dull chuckle escapes his mouth and despite being the same height Archie feels as if he is being stared down at.

              “Well well well, Archibald Andrews, what do I owe the ever elusive pleasure?” he sneers at him, resting his long body against the door frame.

              “I, um, I needed some advice” Archie replies feeling himself shrink under the glare.

              “And Moose Mason’s two syllable answers weren’t enough?” Jughead laughs, but there’s nothing genuine behind it

              “Why do you hate that guy so much?”

              “Beside the fact he’s a moron?” Jughead retorts, he doesn’t wait for Archie to respond as he starts again “What advice do you want Archie? What band to apathetically listen to next?”

Archie snorts at that and the glare in Jughead’s eyes lessen,

              “No it’s nothing like that – it’s er, it’s actually about like… It’s about a girl” Archie stumbles out as a blush rushes to his cheeks.

Jughead laughs at that, a real one this time as some form of warmth comes into his eyes,

              “The famous lady killer Archie Andrews is nervous about a girl? Isn’t that golden” and with that Jughead steps from the doorway and gestures for Archie to enter his room.

It’s completely different to Archie’s shared dorm with a common room and 3 connecting bedrooms. Jugheads room is laid out like a studio, there’s even a small kitchen in the corner. The walls are littered with posters for films Archie has never even heard about and there’s books placed on every flat service available.

              “So tell me, who’s the lucky girl?” Jughead asks whilst flopping down on his bed, shoving some of his clothes on the floor so there’s space for Archie as well. He sets next to him and starts to explain Veronica.

He explains how he can’t stop thinking about her, how he can’t stop worrying about her. How she’s beautiful in a way he didn’t think possible and how he’s never wanted something more then `to see her smiling, really smiling.

Jughead listens to it all and Archie finds that he’s missed that – missed someone listening and not just hearing.

Jughead laughs when he’s finished – and it’s the laugh Archie remembers – the one where his face twists and he tips his head back.

              “You’ve got a crush Arch, have you never had a crush before?”

He contemplates it, of course he’s had crushes, there was the hot music teacher from 10th grade and he was sure there was some in middle school. No, this wasn’t just a crush. This was something more – it felt more like a fascination, like the first time you hear your favourite song or the first time you taste your favourite food.

              “It’s not just a crush Jug, it’s consuming when I think about her you know? But when I’m not thinking about her it’s… it’s… I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s different, she’s different” he tries to explain it, but all the words in the world don’t do the feeling justice.

              “Maybe it’s love at first sight, you ever think of that?” Jughead says, sarcasm coating every word.

They both laugh at that, love didn’t exist for them. It didn’t exist for anyone trapped in this abyss of a prison. Despite that Archie contemplates it – contemplates that maybe, just maybe, he was the exception and not the rule.

They stop talking about Veronica after that, Archie wishes he could say it felt like the old days as they started speaking about music and videogames, but it didn’t. They were both older and the childish hope they had once both possessed which bonded the two in an otherwise pessimistic world had thinned in them both, it was stretched and torn and was guaranteed to snap for either one at some point soon.

In the back of his mind Archie can’t help but think if Veronica was the one to break it, it might be worth it.


	2. Chapter 2

Archie is at Veronica’s door 10 minutes before they agreed to meet, he knows it might make him seem eager but for the first time in a long time Archie feels excited. He feels thrilled at the idea of getting to know the girl with constellations in her eyes.

He’s lent against the wall next to her door and tries to ignore the people walking past – he isn’t interested in them, they’re all content to stay motionless as life flows and travels past them. No Archie wants to be swept away; wants to feel something, anything, that proves he isn’t stuck like the rest of them.  
He’s so focused on ignoring everyone he doesn’t even notice when the girl he wants is standing in front of him, aiming another dead smile in his direction and Archie feels something close to annoyance wash over him

“You don’t have to do that you know” He mutters, pushing himself off the wall and looking down at her. She looks confused, the plastic smile still entrapping her face.

He sighs and nods to her face,

“The smile, you don’t have to do it if you know… if you’re not happy” The corners of her lips twitch – like she wants to stop pretending, like she wants to set herself free if only for that moment. But as quickly as it happens the smile returns full force and Veronica laughs and Archie can’t help but wonder if it sounds as fake to anyone else as it does to him

“Of course I’m happy, why wouldn’t I be happy Archie?” Archie feels a brief second of joy at the fact she remembers his name, remembers him and he wonders if maybe she’s been thinking of him as much as he’s been thinking of her.

He doubts it, can’t imagine himself consuming someone the way she has. He can’t imagine someone wondering if he’s eaten or if he’s showered. People don’t worry about him the way they worry about someone as beautiful as Veronica. Archie knows why, there’s no reason to worry about something if there’s nothing there, if it’s empty.

“You’ve been condemned to this prison for the foreseeable future? I think that’s reason enough”

Veronica looks at him for a second and it’s like before, when she was really looking at him, going beyond his face and eyes and looking at something deeper.

“I don’t think it’s that bad” And something in her voice makes Archie think Veronica does think it’s that bad, if not worse.

*

Archie takes her down to the gardens and they sit in between the blossoming roses, he doesn’t miss the way her eyes linger on them as if she wants to reach out and touch them and he wishes she does, craves to see how the crimson contrasts with her beautifully tanned skin.

They sit like that for a while and don’t speak and it’s everything Archie wanted it to be, it’s comfortable and real, neither of them try and fill the silence with words that don’t need to be said. They sit there until the sky starts to darken and they’re awash in a kaleidoscope of oranges and reds

“I love roses” she finally breaks the silence and turns to look at him and Archie can’t decide if it’s the way the light cascades across her face like a painting or if it’s the look in her eyes that causes him to choke on his own breath.  
Her eyes are raw in that split second, she isn’t hiding anything, she isn’t pre-tending. They’re deep and dark and Archie starts to believe it’s not constellations he can see in her eyes but whole galaxies.

It’s gone in an instant and she goes back to being the girl with the fake smile, but there’s something different now, it doesn’t feel the same, it’s not as tight, not as polished. He doesn’t know if that’s because he saw the real her, even if it was for the briefest of seconds, or if she’s more relaxed but Archie relishes in it. Relishes in the idea that Veronica is alive and there and real and not just another face in the sea of insipidity he constantly feels drowned in.

“You’re beautiful” Archie finally settles as his reply, whispering it as his eyes follow the gentle slopes and curves of her face.

She looks down, her lashes resting faintly against her cheeks and doesn’t say anything and yet Archie can’t bring himself to regret it. She is beautiful, not in the same way as Cheryl or Betty but something different entirely and Archie cannot wait to figure out what it is that makes her different.

***

Veronica tries to not think about the boy with orange hair, she tries to place him in a box next to the days she’s told to forget. Tries to erase him despite his efforts to remain.

He is everything mothers should warn you about, tall and handsome with a smile that spells out more trouble than joy, he smokes and takes pill and drinks, he is everything Veronica is not.

She watches him when he isn’t looking at her, her eyes trace him and tries to dissect him.

Veronica thinks she knows him, the bad boy with morality issues. He fits his role as perfectly as she does hers and yet every now and again he does something that makes her think she’s wrong, makes her think he is a compilation of the things she knows and things she doesn't.

She watches the way he fights; fights to stay alive when everything is stacked against him to diminish, fights to remain himself despite the vat of grey they’re caught in. She’s never seen anything like it and at times she wonders why she doesn’t fight the way he does, but she knows she can’t. How could someone fight to stay alive when they’ve already accepted oblivion.

She doesn’t understand his fascination with her, doesn’t understand why someone as alluring as him would want anything to do with her. He told her she was beautiful and for once she wasn’t sure if she believed it.

Veronica knows she is beautiful, she has always been told she is and has never had reason to doubt it, but the way Archie tells her makes her feel something different. Something deeper. Something she doesn’t know.

And that is why Veronica tries to forget him, she does not deal with things she does not know.

*

He asks her to the garden every day after the first. Sometimes she agrees and sometimes she doesn’t. Despite the occasional rejection he had been at her door at exactly 3pm waiting to ask.

That was until today, today he is not and Veronica tries to ignore the odd sense of disappointment that settles on her chest and walks into her dorm.

“Veronica, no romantic rendezvous with Riverdale’s institute very own fiery haired James Dean today?” Cheryl shouts from one of the small couches in their shared common room. Veronica likes Cheryl. Cheryl is everything Veronica wishes she could be, she is loud and honest, smart and wild, happy.

“Not today Cheryl, you should really come with us next time, the roses are blooming now” She answers, moving to sit at the end of the couch Cheryl has sprawled herself across, a cigarette hanging from her red lips.

“Roses bloom every year my dear Lodge” Cheryl chuckles, kicking her side.

Veronica laughs back because she doesn’t know what else to do, she likes to think as Cheryl as a friend, a real friend. She doesn’t know for sure but she knows she doesn’t try as hard to be perfect around Cheryl and for her that is enough.

They sit like that for a while as the room slowly fills with smoke – soon they’d have to open a window but for now they’re both content.

“Are you going to the party later?” Cheryl asks after some time, she’s finished her first cigarette and is reaching for the box for her second

“The one upstairs?” Veronica asks, waiting for Cheryl to nod in confirmation before continuing “No I don’t think I will” she finishes, reaching forward to pass the box for her.

“Of course our dear darling Veronica Lodge can’t stand one evening away from her poor sanctuary of a room” Cheryl sneers at her, snatching the box whilst rolling her eyes.

That was something Veronica didn’t like, Cheryl’s emotions seemed to balance on the wind as it gusts and twists around her. She never knows that to do when Cheryl is angry, isn’t used to people snapping at her.

The two sit in an awkward silence for a moment, Cheryl ripping another cigarette form the box and staring at Veronica with blatant annoyance as she lights it.

“You’re pretty pathetic sometimes Veronica, sorry to say it but not really sorry” she states.

Veronica can’t stand the look, can’t stand the feeling of it sinking into her skin and washing her veins with a sick sense of anxiety. It crawls through her, starting in her fingers and reaching her chest, squeezing it to the point its almost painful. It reaches through her and dances on her skin causing an uncomfortable itch to takeover. Veronica hates the look, hates feeling like she’s disappointed someone.

“I’m uh, I’m going to go for a walk Cheryl. I’m sorry about the party, I might go, maybe, I’ll uh, let you know” She stumbles out, standing up too fast and almost falling over.

There’s a familiar feeling of static eroding her mind, something she can’t focus on and yet still it consumes her, sinks into her mouth and eyes and there’s nothing she can do.

She can tell she’s moving – her feet dragging her but she doesn’t know if she’s running or if she’s walking, if she’s going straight or down. She can feel her breathe pulsating against her chest, hitting her heart with each inhale.

She’s doesn’t know where she’s going – something beyond her leading her away, helping her escape. But the further she is from the room the deeper she cascades into herself, getting trapped in the conflicting tides inside her. Her throat floods as she gasps, desperate to stop, to focus, to breathe.

“Hey, Hey!” Someone calls, she can’t tell where she is and can’t tell where the voice is, but it’s there making its way through the static in her head. It slips in through her right ear and dances across her brain and it’s something. Something that isn’t consuming her but instead flickering and she tries to focus on it, tries to escape the tides that are overwhelming her inside.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, her breathe thundering throughout her.

“Hey, you alright?” The voice says again, it’s closer this time. She turns to where it is coming from, eyes swinging to her right and focusing on the person next to her. It’s a boy, taller than her with dark hair blocked by an even darker beanie

She tries to reply but all that escapes are her choked gasps. The boy reaches out to lay a hand on her shoulder and she recoils, it feels like his fingertips are made of molten flames and it burns through her skin. He retracts his hand almost immediately and continues to look at her.

“I’ll take that as a no” He mutters, moving away from her and her eyes follow, desperate to stay with the thing she can focus on. He rests against a wall and slides down, his legs easily reaching the other side of the hallway.

So she’s in a hallway, she’s inside. Veronica starts to piece together where she is – her eyes never wavering from the boy on the ground.

“Have you ever read Anna Karenina?” He asks, not waiting for a reply before he continues “It’s a Russian book, I’ve never read it myself, was wondering if it was worth it”

He turns to look at her, sending her a gentle smile before carrying on “I quite like Russian literature, I wish I could read the books in their own language. I think when a book is translated it loses something important”

She moves to sit next to him, her breathe coming slower now, more steady. She still doesn’t trust herself to speak but nods at him to show she is listening.

He smiles larger and it’s so unguarded she’s caught off guard, she doesn’t think she’s ever seen a smile so reckless. It’s different to Archie who hides his hurt in his eyes and hands and Cheryl who forces her emotions like sparks from her mouth.

“Are you the new girl? Midge?” He asks, pulling a small switch knife from his pocket and flicking it back and forth.

Veronica shakes her head, eyes now following the glisten of the silver blade.

“Ah so you must be Veronica, I’ve heard about you. You’re the girl with stars in her eyes” She looks up at that, confusion engulfing her.

“Stars?” She whispers

“Ah! So she does speak” He laughs, his head tipping back. “Stars, tiny fragments of light that grace our night sky. You must’ve have heard about them”

Veronica doesn’t know how it happens but she laughs, not because she feels like she has too or there’s nothing else to do, but by pure accident a small giggle escapes from her. She stops herself straight away, looks at him with something akin to fear as her hand shoots to cover her lips, almost as if the laugh that trickled out was made of poison.

“So she laughs too” He whispers, looking into her eyes like he’s trying to dissect her from the inside out. “You’re very interesting Veronica, I can see understand him a little more now”

“Him?” She whispers just as quietly, her eyes not leaving his.

“Your questions are full of answers that are not mine to give, secrets I’ve been bestowed with to keep to my grave” He replies, leaning closer with a mischievous glint in his eyes “Maybe you should try something simpler, like perhaps my name?” He leans close enough to push a quick kiss on her cheek and he’s only there long enough for Veronica to smell the marijuana clinging to his skin before his on his feet and walking away. She sits there stunned for a moment before calling out to him.

“Wait, what is your name?”

“Come to my party tonight, I might tell you” and with that he is turning down another hallway and out of her sight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Veronica isn’t sure what drags her to the dorm one floor above and two spaces to the left of hers, nonetheless she finds herself knocking at 10pm – trying to ignore the way the sound mirrors the loud chimes of the grandfather clock that resides on the end at the hallway.

The door swings open almost immediately revealing a familiar fiery haired girl, she grins at the sight of Veronica, the ivory of her teeth contrasting with the ruby of her lips.

               “Ah so our little V decided to turn up” She laughs, her small frame a defeated opponent against the thick blanket of alcohol and drugs wrapped around her

               “Hey Cheryl” Veronica murmurs, trying to ignore the feeling of anxiety raising in her throat.

               “I didn’t think you’d turn up after you went all Joan Jett earlier” and something in her tone sounds slightly apologetic, like she knew what it felt like to have fear erode at all your actions, nervousness crumble them. Veronica doubts it though, Cheryl is too strong and too brave to be scared the way she is.

Before Veronica can reply, can ask why, spews of Cheryl’s earlier decision erupt from her mouth, barely missing her as it splatters at the floor between them. Veronica doesn’t know what to do, she has never been good at dealing with sick.

Cheryl finishes after a moment, wiping the remains from the corner of her mouth and sending Veronica a dangerous smile,

               “Oops” she whispers and shuffles away from the door, holding her slender finger to her mouth as she disappears into the crowd.

Veronica doesn’t know if she feels like laughing or crying at the ridiculousness of it, how clearly they are all 17 and trying to pretend they are not. How their age restricts them into doing things which make others skin crawl.

She finds her mind stuck on the number as she steps over the puddle of sick in the doorway, looks around the walls and sees hundreds of posters for films both Avant garde and mainstream and feels only slightly disappointed that she can only find 12 that she likes. Not 17.     

She sighs and tries to forget the number all together, cursing herself for a second for looking for things that don’t matter, for trying to replace the time she has forgotten with numbers she can count up.

She’s walking deeper into the dorm, the space limited but large enough to fit half the rehab, squeezed together like one giant life form. The symbolism makes Veronicas skin crawl, as she eyes each person in the room, pulsing to the music like a lamented heart. Everyone so dependent on one another, needing the people around them to survive, to live.

She tries to convince herself she’s not jealous as she carries on through the crowd alone.

She finds a bucket full of ice and beer in the corner where couples are making out and takes one, ripping the lid of it and chugging it and when she finishes she grabs another and repeats the process.

She ignores how the people are trying to chant for her but none knows her name, letting their voices fade to a dull hum like a neon sign on a dead night. She pictures it, her in her highest heels on a silent street in New York, there is no one around but the familiar glow of pinks and blues washing over her skin, turning her into something alien. She can feel the wind wash over her, blowing her hair into her face and she’s care free, laughing. The hum continues, louder and envelops her as the lights shine brighter. There is nothing in that moment but her and the neon. She wishes there wasn’t even her.

The sound slowly transitions back to the foreign chants of the teenagers around her, and she’s almost finished her 4th beer when a boy with a dangerous smiles takes the bottle from her.

               “Veronica” He murmurs, wiping the stray drops from her bottom lip. The people around complain but loose interest and it’s just the two of them, standing closer than they ever have but further then they’ve ever wanted to be.

               “Archie” She whispers back, letting his warmth melt into her own from the alcohol.

               “What are you doing here?” He asks, but Veronica doesn’t feel like answering. Is content to stand with him for a minute in silence, like they do when they sit among the walls of roses.

               “Why weren’t you waiting for me today?” she replies to his question.

He looks shocked as he steps away, then steps closer, like he’s dancing with his reply.

               “I didn’t think you cared” He mutters.

She knows the alcohol has started to hit her, she’s not drunk but she’s not herself, she’s not as guarded and words tumble from her mouth like a waterfall, washing over people. She rises to her tiptoes and rests her hands on his shoulders, putting her mouth to his ear and feels him shiver under her touch.

               “I think you might be the only one I do care about” She whispers and with that let’s go, walks away from him and searches for an out. Not curious what the repercussions of her words are.

She finds a door that slides open onto a balcony, the only thing lightening it being the dull light from inside. The cold air nips at her skin but she relishes in the feeling, tipping her head back and letting it wash over her. This is why Veronica likes to drink, she can never focus on feeling when she’s sober. Only seems to focus on what she can’t do and not what she can.

               “Good night?”   A soft voice asks to the left of her, and Veronica doesn’t even open her eyes to see who it is, just nods and smiles.

They both stand there for a second and Veronica can hear the dull sound of music behind the other person inhaling and exhaling a cigarette and it’s the most serene she thinks she’s felt for a while.

She opens her eyes and turns to the person sharing the space with her and is taken back with the sheer perfection of the girl leaning on the railing. She’s tall, blonde hair pulled messily onto a bun on top of her head, she’s swamped in an oversized jumper but looks like a model nonetheless. She looks at Veronica with nothing but a smile and it shocks her, there’s no pressure like when Archie smiles at her and no force like when its Cheryl. It’s just a smile and it reminds her of the boy she almost forgot, the one who saves her from her own panic.

               “Are you okay?-” She asks, and Veronica can hear concern but no pity, can hear curiosity but no prying and the genuineness leaves her speechless. “-You look sad”

               “Do you know who I am?” She instead asks and the blonde girl laughs.

               “Someone who doesn’t like to answer questions?” she replies, pushing herself to stand.

               “I’m Veronica Lodge” And the other girl gives a small gasp, that’s what Veronica expects, when people know who she is they do not regard her with genuineness but instead with an expectation often too high to meet.

The blonde girls reply shocks her, she still sounds kind, non-expecting, “J told me you were pretty, he didn’t say you were sad”

Veronica wants to argue, wants to show she’s happy and content, she’s not sad. But Veronica fights that perception every day and can’t fight the want to confide in this perfect blonde stranger.

               “I’m okay” She finally lets slips from her tongue, the noise barely loud enough to be caught on the wind.

The girl shrugs

               “We’re all okay when we’re our worst” she replies and stands next to Veronica, both staring out in the thick canopy of trees that surround them.

The blonde laughs after a moment and smiles at Veronica once more.

               “I’m Betty Cooper, I live in 5D. You can come find me when you decide you’ve had enough of being okay” And with that slips inside through the glass door. The party seems another world away now, like another day, another memory.

Her good feeling gone as she is left to face the reality of herself, the usual sadness resting upon her chest. She wants to cry, but hasn’t done so in years and refuses to let a kind stranger break her streak.

The door opens again and a familiar boy steps through, he’s drenches in sweat and his jaw tenses and untenses as quickly as the leafs rustle beneath them.

               “Veronica!” He shouts, running over to her and reaching out to hug her. Stopping short like he remembered who they were and who they are to each other.

               “Veronica” he says again, calmer, but with the excess energy of whatever pill he had taken.

               “Hello Archie” She murmurs, her eyes not straying from the trees.

               “I care about you too” He starts to say before she’s even finished her greeting. “Like what you said earlier, when we were inside, you said you cared about me, well you said you might do, I care about you too Ronnie. Is it okay if I call you Ronnie? It’s okay if it’s not, I think it suits you. It’s cute like you are. But Veronica is beautiful like you’re beautiful so both suit you really”

               “It’s okay you can call me Ronnie” She replies, fighting a small smile. Whatever he’s taken must have been strong as he chats away, dancing to the music inside. He takes of her shirt and offers the rest of his drink to her and doesn’t stop talking once.

She accepts it, surprised by how strong it is but not getting a chance to ask him what it was. She occasionally grabs his shirts to pat at his brow, where the sweat is the worst.

He’s halfway through explaining why his favourite colour is orange when the door opens again and the strange black haired boy steps out. There’s a tattoo of a bird on his neck and Veronica can’t help but stare.

               “Ronnie! This is Jughead, he lives in this dorm, Jughead this is Ronnie, isn’t she nice. Look how nice she looks” Archie tries to introduce the two of them and they nod a hello, but don’t speak. Veronica is focused on the bird and Jughead is focused on her.

Veronica wonders if she lied earlier, when she said Archie might be the only person she cared about. Maybe she cares about two people, maybe she cares about neither.

Archie finally tires from the silence and makes his way inside, leaving the two on the balcony. Jughead offers Veronica a cigarette and she cautiously accepts it, she hasn’t smoked since she was 14 but something inside her craves it.

               “So you’re Jughead?” She finally speaks first, taking the first exhale and trying not to choke.

               “Jughead Jones the 3rd, willing and ready to be your slave my sweet Juliet” He replies in a mocking voice, bending low in a mock courtesy.

Veronica hates how both times she’s spoken to the boy she is left nothing but curious, like he always has the upper hand of their conversations.

               “Juliet?” She asks.

               “Well you’re one half of Riverdales biggest and best romance, you and darling Romeo fighting the odds”

Veronica laughs at that, and this time doesn’t hide it. Let’s herself feel the brief rush of joy as it paints the night sky in white billows of warm air.

He smiles at her and the two stand in silence again, He starts his second cigarette before she’s even halfway through her first.

               “Don’t forget though my dear-“ He starts, taking in one more drag before turning to her, blowing out the smoke across her face “-Romeo and Juliet ends in tragedy”

And with that he flicks the end over the railing and goes back in, sending her one last smile.

Veronica stands on her own for a minute, listening to the music before making her way back in. Her mind anywhere but on the party inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am going to do a grammar and spelling check tomorrow, got so excited that i finished this just posted it lol.
> 
> This is set in a rehab btw, not a mental institute or w/e

**Author's Note:**

> Ah this is taken from an old story for a different fandom just updated  
> gonna make it short maybe 10 (?) chapters


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